


Just Getting Started

by Inell



Series: Just Like Me [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Childhood Trauma, FBI Agent Derek Hale, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hunting a Serial Killer, M/M, Mind Games, Non-Graphic Reference to Torture and Rape, Pack Feels, Pack are FBI Agents, Psychopathology & Sociopathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9334745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Stiles and the team are in place and ready to carry out the plan. It’s time to catch a killer.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BansheeLydia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/gifts).



> allirica said: Derek/Stiles + "use your words"
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! Part 7 of Just Like Me, and Fic #13 in my 2017 Prompt Challenge
> 
> I managed to finish this series today. There are going to be 8 parts of the series total, and I decided to post the last two parts today because y'all have been so awesome. The comments I've received on this series have brightened my day, and I really hope y'all enjoy "the reveal" in this part. You'll have to let me know if your theories were correct!

 

The team is in place. Everyone knows their expected role, and Stiles has total faith that the plan is going to be carried out exactly as discussed. Boyd took Erica and Isaac with him, staying low until they receive word from Danny that they can proceed. Allison, Jackson, and Derek are in the stairwell, ready to burst in as reinforcements if needed. Lydia, Danny, and Rafe are in a van down the street, focusing on communications and monitoring Stiles’ movements.

Now that he’s actually here, ready to put the plan into play, Stiles has a moment of hesitation. It’s very brief, but it’s still there. He welcomes that moment because it reminds him that he’s got to be cautious and alert. If he ever stops feeling that way right before stepping into danger, that’s when he’ll know he needs time away. Once he experiences it, lets the doubt rush through him, he’s able to relax. This is going to be one of the most difficult games he’s played since joining the FBI, so he needs to make sure he’s focused and ready.

“Let’s catch ourselves a killer,” he murmurs, knowing the team will hear him. Straightening his shoulders, he projects confidence and just enough cockiness to feel believable for the attitude he has to embody for this plan to be successful.

He walks down the corridor until he reaches the right door, then he knocks. He leans against the doorframe, letting the expensive bottle of wine that Lydia chose dangle from between his middle and pointer fingers. When the door opens, he slowly smiles. He isn’t going to come on too strong because that’ll just raise suspicion. Instead, he shakes the bottle of wine and shifts his expression into attentive and hopeful. “I was sick of staring at the walls of my hotel room, so I thought I’d take you up on that offer of a drink. You busy?”

“No. I mean, I’m not busy. Not no to a drink,” Jordan stammers, looking rather adorably befuddled in a way that probably fools a majority of people who interact with him. Stiles never has been that fond of following the crowd, fortunately. “It’s really nice to see you, Stiles. Come on in.”

_Said the spider to the fly._

“I know I should have called, but I wanted to surprise you.” Stiles steps inside the apartment and quickly cases it, noticing the points of escape, just in case things take a turn south. His team is right outside, but there’s still enough distance between them that he doesn’t feel secure. Facing Jordan, he notices that the padlock has been turned into place but he just smiles like he’s too distracted to realize. “So surprise.”

“It’s a nice surprise.” Jordan flashes that sweet smile, looking shy and hopeful in a way that makes Stiles want to poke him until he snaps. “I, uh, well, I’ve wanted to spend time with you, outside the office. Talk like we did when you first arrived. But your team is always around. I’m glad to see you.”

“I know.” Stiles makes a face then pretends like he hadn’t meant to do that. “Sorry. They’re a great team, but they can be smothering sometimes. They don’t like it very much when I make friends with the local agents.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Jordan admits, walking closer to Stiles. “Agent Hale and Agent Argent especially seem to be rather, uh, possessive.”

“Well, they’re not here now, so we can finally get to know each other without having to deal with my babysitters.” Stiles hands Jordan the bottle of wine. “I hope you like white. This one has such a refreshing flavor. It’s delicious.”

“Um, I don’t, uh. Wine isn’t something I drink often,” Jordan says, still stammering a little and looking disconcerted. That’s what Stiles wants, so he’s glad. The whole purpose of facing the devil in his den is to throw him off-balance and take the control away.

“Oh? I’m open to other possibilities, if you’d like to make a suggestion.” Stiles leans into Jordan’s space, letting just enough innuendo drip off his words to be subtle and flirtatious.

Jordan blinks at him, and Stiles realizes he’s starting to get suspicious. Time for a change in tactic. “You hadn’t…I mean, I tried, but you never seemed interested.”

“I’ve been interested, Jordan. I just usually don’t mix business with pleasure. I decided to make an exception tonight because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Stiles lies smoothly. “I feel like we have a connection, as crazy as that probably sounds.”

“It’s not crazy,” Jordan says quickly. He puts the bottle of wine down and reaches for Stiles’ hand. “I feel it, too. From the first moment we met, I felt the spark. When we talked about criminal motivation and aspects of violence, I just _knew_ that you understood.”

“I remember.” Stiles has to poke harder because the act is still happening. Until he sees the truth, sees the man behind the mask, he knows it’s too early to learn anything useful. “We talked about the theory that some people have a natural inclination to violence. That it’s part of their genetic make-up.” It’s not a theory that Stiles puts much weight into, but Jordan had seemed really into the idea.

“Right, but also the other part.” Jordan tightens his grip on Stiles’ hand. “About the power that we feel when we hold someone’s life in our hands. When we discussed that, I saw your eyes change, saw the awareness. I realized you’re just like me.”

_Little fox, do you hear him? He’s not wrong, is he? You enjoy having power and control. He speaks the truth._

“Am I?” Stiles leans in, ghosting his lips against Jordan’s ear. “I don’t think you’re like me, Jordan. You’re too soft. Too sweet. Have you watched the light leave their eyes with their blood dripping from your hands?” He steps back and meets Jordan’s eyes, waiting to see if his taunt works on the id the way he wants. Most would appeal to the ego, play up Jordan’s successes so far, but Stiles knows men like this. Aiming for aggressive instincts is the right way to go if he wants Jordan to snap.

And he does.

Jordan stares at him, his lip curling slightly, the shy demure bullshit finally giving way to brash confidence. Like a light switch has been flipped. So predictable yet also incredibly volatile. The torture the victims went through was cruel and sadistic. Stiles knows what he’s truly dealing with here, and he’s just relieved to see the good ol’ boy persona finally give way to the real Jordan Parrish. It’ll make playing this game that much easier.

“I’m not soft, Stiles.” Jordan’s eyes are cold, his lips curved into a forbidding smile that might terrify someone who hadn’t spent nearly a year as the captive of a serial killer that makes Jordan look like a child playing tiddlywinks. “Have you ever listened to them beg to die only to make them scream louder? It’s the greatest rush in the world.”

“I have little interest in begging.” Stiles arches a brow. “I prefer it when they’re silent, just making noises they can’t control as they find salvation.”

“Salvation?” Jordan laughs. “It’s not about saving them, Stiles. It’s about taking what we want and doing whatever we feel like before choosing when they die.”

“See, I knew you weren’t like me. You’re an amateur, Jordan. You think with your dick, let your desires cloud your vision, fail to see the big picture.” Stiles smiles cruelly. “I’m a fox, sneaking into their minds and twisting their perceptions until they welcome death. You’re just a stray dog, sniffing out what smells good and humping it until you’re done.”

“Take it back,” Jordan snarls, moving quickly but not quite fast enough. Stiles just laughs, which seems to infuriate him more. “You’re supposed to be the one that understands, Stiles. I recognized it in you when we met.”

“You aren’t at my level yet. If you were, would I have figured you out so easily?” Stiles taunts him, continuously moving because provoking an aggressively violent serial killer _is_ a tad bit dangerous.

“You don’t have me figured out,” Jordan says. “I know all about you, though. The Jackal’s pet, tutored by one of the best in history only to turn around and kill him to escape. Poor little orphan with a dead mom and a drunk dad who ran his car into a tree because he knew what you’d become. I’ve read the case files, Stiles. I did my thesis on the Jackal, and I know—“

“You don’t know anything,” Stiles says sharply, cutting him off and retaking control. “Did it start with Chad Booker? The handsome therapist who tried to help you, tried to get you acclimated to civilian life but that didn’t include dating you. So you took him, kept him for weeks, turned him into your plaything until you tired of him, until you realized you wanted more.”

“He laughed at me! I asked him for coffee, and he gave me this excuse about restrictions, but I heard him laughing with his girlfriend about the gay patient who asked him out.” Jordan sneers. “He deserved everything he got. And, yes, I did play with him for weeks, made him scream and beg and ask for more of everything I gave to him until he was broken.” His sneer becomes a disappointed frown. “They always break, Stiles. Some break faster than others. But you. _You_ won’t break. I knew it from that first conversation.”

A confession about killing Chad Booker is good, but it’s not enough because Stiles had to lead him into it. A good defense attorney could probably rip it up and get it thrown out. He needs more. _You know what to do, little fox. You aim for the weakest spot, and you slice the knife through, just like butter. Such a good boy for Papa._ The hoarse whisper in his ear makes his stomach turn, but it isn’t wrong. He _does_ know what to do.

“You’re careless with your toys, Jordan. That’s why they break so easily.” Stiles scoffs. “You’re pathetic. I’m starting to wonder if you’re just taking credit for someone else’s work.”

“They’re _mine_ ,” Jordan says, his tone possessive yet boastful. “ _I_ collected them. James had the prettiest mouth. I saw him at a gas station in Walla Walla, followed him home, wanted him then but knew I wasn’t ready. So I kept driving until I found Casey. Her mouth was beautiful, full and plump lips that I couldn’t resist. I thought she’d be enough, but she broke and I couldn’t forget James. I went back for him, added him to my collection, but he was weaker than she was, didn’t last as long.”

“Careless.” Stiles shakes his head. “That still doesn’t convince me, Jordan. Anyone who read the file would know those details. I think you’re trying to impress me, trying to convince me you’re worthy, but you’re just playing pretend. Use your words, try again.”

“I _am_ worthy!” Jordan turns and walks to his desk. He looks off-balance, like he’s not even sure why he wants to be worthy but he now has to prove himself to be because he’s been challenged. He grabs a handful of flash drives and shoves them at Stiles. “You can see how I made them scream, how they begged. I’m not pretending. I’m just like you, Stiles. Watch the videos. You’ll see.”

Stiles grips the flash drives tightly. Videos. The dumbass actually recorded himself with his victims. That’s like rule number one of what _not_ to do in Serial Killer 101, and the fucking FBI agent broke it. He needs to have a word with Rafe about the application process if morons like this are getting hired. This is more than enough to get a conviction, visual evidence freely given is admissible, and that along with the recording of their conversation should be enough for the prosecutor.

“I think we’re done here, Jordan,” Stiles says, putting the flash drives in the pocket of his suit coat. That’s the code word for the team. If everything goes as planned, Boyd, Erica, and Isaac are breaking into the storage unit where Jordan is keeping Paige because it won’t matter now if any kind of electric surveillance alerts Jordan. Not when Allison, Derek, and Jackson should be busting through the front door at any moment.

“Done? No. No, don’t say that, Stiles. We aren’t _done_. We’re just getting started. I’ve been looking forward to playing with you, to hearing you scream, since you walked into the office.” Jordan reaches for him as the door splinters in. Turning in surprise, Jordan’s face changes, a rage coming over it as he seems to finally realize that he’s been set up. He grabs the bottle of wine and hits it on the counter, shattering it and holding the broken glass towards Stiles’ neck. “Come any closer, and I’ll kill him.”

“Put it down, Parrish,” Derek says, aiming his gun and not wavering at all even as he glances at Stiles to do a visual assessment.

“You’re going to put your guns down, and I’m going to leave here. I’ll be taking him with me,” Jordan says, crowding in closer to Stiles.

“Yeah, you know, I’d consider allowing it because he’s a smartass who talks too much, but I kinda love the asshole, so I don’t think so.” Jackson shrugs before he shoots at Jordan’s kneecap. As soon as Jordan flinches, Derek sends a round into his right shoulder, making him drop the broken bottle.

“Well, damn. Suspect has been incapacitated before I could fire,” Allison mutters, glaring at Derek and Jackson. “Trust you boys to take away my fun.”

“You know, I _did_ have that under control. I could have taken him out without the blood splatter that’s ruined my suit pants,” Stiles says, grimacing at his pants.

“You’re welcome.” Jackson smirks. “Can’t believe I saved your scrawny ass. Don’t tell the others or they’ll think I’m going soft or something.”

 _“You do realize we can hear you, don’t you, Jackson?”_ Lydia asks.

“Of course he does. That’s why he’s bragging about shooting the perp in the knee, like that makes him some big damn hero,” Stiles mutters, watching Allison force Jordan to his feet. She is rather brutal as she moves him, and he notices the satisfied smile on her lips when Jordan whimpers at the pressure she puts on his right arm.

“You okay?” Derek touches his shoulder and looks him over before meeting his gaze. “Not just physically.”

“Too soon to know.” Stiles figures there’s no reason to lie. He had to tap into a darker side of himself that he usually keeps tightly wound up, and the memories this case has dredged up are likely to linger for a while.

_“They found Paige. She’s alive but suffering from multiple injuries, dehydration, and a possible ankle fracture. Boyd and Erica are taking her to the hospital. Isaac is on his way here to do a search of Parrish’s apartment.”_

“Thank God,” Stiles whispers. There’d been a part of him worried that they’d been too late. That they could have moved on Parrish yesterday if he’d just been willing to ask Matt what he saw at Slaughter. He can’t stand the guy, but it’ll be nice to have a witness who followed Parrish there and can place him talking to Paige after the set. Matt had left first, so he didn’t witness them leaving together, but being able to place Parrish there was enough to solidify Stiles’ suspicion.

“That’s a relief,” Derek says, gently stroking his thumb along the curve of Stiles’ jaw. “We caught the bad guy, Stiles.”

“Yeah, we did.” Stiles looks at him then glances around, noticing that Jackson and Allison had left to take Jordan downstairs. “We finished the case.”

“Yeah, we did,” Derek echoes his comment, lips twitching slightly as he leans in.

“Maybe this isn’t the best time, Derek. I just played mind games with a serial killer, and there’s blood on my pants from where you shot said killer. Besides, you know what Keanu says: relationships based on intense experiences never work,” Stiles points out, trying to keep a straight face but failing.

“Good thing ours is based on mutual trust, friendship, and love then,” Derek murmurs before his lips press against the corner of Stiles’ mouth. Stiles moves his head, bumping their noses together hard enough to hurt.

“Ouch—sorry,” he mumbles before he grips Derek’s hair. “Stay like that.”

“No,” Derek tells him before he leans in and kisses him. A real kiss. Lips against lips, movement happening, a flick of a tongue dragging across his bottom lip. Stiles is too stunned to react, at first, unable to believe he’s kissing Derek Hale. But the feel of Derek’s beard scraping against his chin and the warm hand on his neck makes him realize it’s really happening so he’d better catch up.

Kissing is something Stiles _really_ enjoys, but there haven’t been many people in his life that he’s wanted to kiss. Kissing Derek is better than he imagined. It’s gentle yet rough in a way that feels natural and exciting. When Derek sucks on his bottom lip, Stiles toes _do_ curl. They pull apart, and Stiles just stares at him. All things considered, it was a very chaste first kiss, but it was perfect.

“Hey,” he whispers, blinking and feeling a bit punch drunk after just that one kiss. How’s he going to feel when there’s actually tongue involved?

“Hey,” Derek whispers back, smiling in a way that makes his eyes crinkle up. Stiles reaches over and traces his smile.

“You’re pretty.” Stiles grins when Derek’s ears flush. “We should do that again.”

“We will,” Derek promises, leaning in to kiss him lightly. “A lot more.”

“ _If you two have finished your romantic smooching in the serial killer’s bloody apartment, can I please come in to do my job?”_ Isaac asks, which seems to make the whole team come alive in their ears.

“ _When did this happen? Stiles Stilinski, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, young man!”_ Lydia warns him.

 _“I can’t believe you two couldn’t wait until after we process the scene. Real professional there,”_ Jackson mutters. “ _Not very romantic, either. Derek, you and I need to have a talk about seduction and properly wooing our boy.”_

“ _Hale, Melissa and I are expecting you for dinner once we’re back in San Francisco,”_ Rafe says in a deliberately threatening manner.

“ _Leave them alone, guys. This has been a long time coming, and they don’t need us teasing them,”_ Allison says. “ _I would like to claim Best Man honors right now, however, because I want to text Scott and tell him to suck it because Stiles loves me most.”_

“I hate you all,” Stiles tells them, biting his lip to keep from laughing when Derek shakes his head and grins. “Just for that, none of you are invited for celebratory pancakes at Sunny’s after we dump Parrish at the jail, after all.”

“Ignore him,” Derek says. “Pancakes for everyone.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Just Getting Started](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15248235) by [taikodragon (hana_ginkawa)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hana_ginkawa/pseuds/taikodragon)




End file.
